


Unfortunate and Infamous

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, I'm Going to Hell, Like so much angst, M/M, Regular Guilt, Survivor Guilt, You have no idea how much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thenardier laughs again and Marius wants to turn and punch him, like he did at the wedding. But yet again he is frozen. There is some sort of sick satisfaction in how abhorrent he is, to offer himself to this vile man; this man who degrades the memory of Marius's friends, of his own daughter. It as if by doing this Marius descends to the same place as Thenardier, becomes one of the dregs of humanity; his worthlessness is being inscribed upon his flesh.</p>
<p>(And perhaps then it will be enough; perhaps if he destroys everything even vaguely pure and clean in him, everything that still gives him hope and joy, perhaps if he turns himself into an absolute monster, perhaps if he snaps himself in half and feels the jagged edge every day for the rest of his life, he will have been punished. If it makes himself burn in hell then maybe, just maybe all those people he destroyed will look upon him in mercy, and offer the slightest sympathy as he screams upon Satan's rack.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfortunate and Infamous

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "At Marius' wedding, in exchange for Thenardier giving him the information about where Valjean is, Marius lets him fuck him." BE NOT FOOLED BY THE CRACK PAIRING, THIS IS THE MOST DEPRESSING SHIT YOU WILL EVER READ IN YOUR LIFE. Omg Marius I'm so sorry. Also this doesn't actually take place at the wedding but like a couple of weeks after, and I really don't know what continuity this is? It has both Brick things and Movie things.

Marius doesn't know why he agrees. He does not want to; the thought makes him physically sick, and in fact the night before he throws up and has to pass it off to Cosette as illness. He thinks she thinks that's why he's sending her away for a day; that he doesn't want to give her his contagion. If only she knew.

Still, he supposes he has a debt to pay.

(He has sososo _many_ debts to pay, and he can't–)

He doesn't know what he expects. He doesn't know if he expects Thenardier to have cleaned himself up a little. He hasn't. He doesn't know if he expects Thenardier to play at making conversation, ask why he hasn't been offered a drink. He does.

That doesn't last long. He lets himself be dragged impatiently toward the bedroom, because degrading as it is he can't bring himself to do this, only to let it be done to him. It doesn't surprise him to pushed to his hands and knees so roughly, to have his trousers practically torn away, to hear Thenardier chuckle at how he quivers in fear.

(His first instinct is to start screaming for help. But he shuts it down.)

It _hurts_. Marius barely manages to repress a sob. Thenardier doesn't care; in fact he doesn't really notice. He seems to be enjoying himself, taking what is offered neither quickly nor slowly. His thrusts are like clockwork, coming two seconds apart, and maybe that should help but really all it does is give him a hideous moment of anticipation.

Marius smothers a pained groan in the sheets. He still doesn't know why he agreed to this. What sort of payment is this? Thenardier saved his father's life and as long as Marius has known the man, he's been trying to pay that debt, with liberty and money and now, with his body, but it's not _fair_ , because Marius didn't do any of this, he didn't–

He opens his eyes and tries to focus on the sheets below him. They are white with a blue floral pattern.

It was Cosette who bought them, thinking they were pretty, as Marius didn't have a particularly strong opinion. Cosette. Oh god, how would she look at him if she knew? He's always felt she would be disgusted with him for even knowing a man like this, and– He loves her, he loves her so much, so how can he do this to her? His body seizes up as if consumed by the revelation, preparing to fight this decision away, but something keeps him frozen – silently enduring his sins.

(Sometimes he can't bear to have her touch him, and he knows it pains her – but he just can't explain, that he doesn't want to hurt to, to ruin her, to get the blood that covers him over her porcelain hands–)

"Fuck," he suddenly hears bitingly above. "You know, you could try and pay attention."

Marius gulps and manages to speak. "That wasn't part of our agreement."

"Still. Only manners."

Marius laughs at that, and turns back to the flowers.

Jehan. Jehan loved flowers. The thought makes Marius want to cry. Because Jehan loved flowers, he loved children, he loved poems, he loved liberty, he loved so many things. All of them did. They gave their lives for that love, for the love of their country and their people, they gave everything – and Marius loved like they did, he would have given like they did, but he did not and know he does not know what he is. Does he love, still? What does he have left to love? There is Cosette of course, whose love saved his life, but how can he profess to love her if two weeks after their wedding this feral man is fucking him on their bed?

Marius lets out a sob. And then his thoughts turn to the other man in his life who loved flowers. Oh Father, dear Father, Papa who led him here: Papa who told him to repay Thenardier anyway he could. And for a second Marius hateshates _hates_ , because how dare he; how dare his father get him into this situation, how dare his father put him in debt to someone so heinous, how dare his father do that after having given so much for him? How dare he both love Marius and damage him?

And then the guilt crashes over him like a tidal wave, because _no_ , he abandoned his father, he left the man to die, he probably killed him with grief (and Marius is almost certain it's possible to die of grief), and it is up to him to appease his father's memory; he deserves to–

(He deserves everything; he deserves to suffer, he deserves to sin, he deserves to rot in hell for all he's done and if he can make quite sure of that–)

"And now you're crying. Honestly kid, it could be a lot worse," Thenardier informs him. "I'm only being so gentle on you 'cause I don't wanna leave blood on the sheets. You're not likely to pay up if I've just let wifey know and ruined your fucking life."

Marius wouldn't have been surprised if he was already bleeding. He remembers he made such a hero of this man, this honest simple good man, who saved his Father in return for nothing, who never got the thanks he deserved, who would never have asked for it. And Marius still searches for that man, that man who never existed, but who Marius needs so desperately, has always needed.

(And maybe this is where he belongs, on all fours, spitting upon his own dignity because is that not what he's done to all others?)

Cosette's father springs to mind and there is nothing Marius can do to stop it. Marius murdered him too, sent him away in a fit of selfish panic, robbed him of his angel, his daughter, his Cosette (he robbed Valjean of Cosette like he robbed Father of himself; it seems he never learns). That is technically what he's paying for, what he's earned with his pound of flesh; the information to go find Valjean, not that it helped in any way. So why does he bother? Why not kick Thenardier to the curb if all he did was give them false hope?

(Cosette doesn't blame him for what he did but God he wishes she would, wishes she would scream and slap and punch and kick and try to kill, so he could fall at her knees, beg her forgiveness, beg all their forgiveness, tear himself apart like he's doing right now but still have something to come back to once he is in pieces – because he is just so selfish, demanding yet more indulgence from the universe, and perhaps it's better it happens like this.)

Suddenly he realises the thrusts have become quicker and he finally notices just how much pain he's in, like a blade that slowly pushes through his belly, his heart, his throat and out his mouth. Rather delayed, he starts to scream. "Christ you're a virgin," Thenardier guffaws heartily. "Makes me wonder why 'Ponine was so obsessed with you. From the looks of things, doesn't seem like you'd have known how to please her."

Marius chokes on a gasp and manages a quiet "Don't you dare." Because as much as Éponine must have hated him (or as much as she should have hated him), he knows she hated her parents more, and all he can do is keep her memory from them. "Don't you say her name."

"Why not? It was a ridiculous name anyway. You'll have to ask her mother where it came from; I haven't a fucking clue," Thenardier says. "She used to call for you in her sleep. Thought we couldn't all hear. She didn't even want you to fuck her, no, just to hold her in your arms and show her a world still worth living in. Stupid bitch. Still, guess you showed her huh?"

Marius wants to sob. Éponine. She _died_ for him, for loving him; he murdered her also and yet he was still the kindest person she ever knew. What is that?

Thenardier laughs again and Marius wants to turn and punch him, like he did at the wedding. But yet again he is frozen. There is some sort of sick satisfaction in how abhorrent he is, to offer himself to this vile man; this man who degrades the memory of Marius's friends, of his own daughter. It as if by doing this Marius descends to the same place as Thenardier, becomes one of the dregs of humanity; his worthlessness is being inscribed upon his flesh.

(And perhaps then it will be enough; perhaps if he destroys everything even vaguely pure and clean in him, everything that still gives him hope and joy, perhaps if he turns himself into an absolute monster, perhaps if he snaps himself in half and feels the jagged edge every day for the rest of his life, he will have been punished. If it makes himself burn in hell then maybe, just maybe all those people he destroyed will look upon him in mercy, and offer the slightest sympathy as he screams upon Satan's rack.)

He feels as if he is possessed. "More," he says coldly. "Harder."

Thenardier seems surprised. "If you say so, Monsieur." And he pushes in yet again, thrusts roughly and quickly, time starting to fall apart; Marius howls in pain. It feels as if his bones have all turned to knives and start to slice his flesh away from the inside. But he then thinks, far too late, he has no right to cry. It is what he deserves after all. So he bites his lip and endures.

There is a heat, a groan, a wetness, and Marius realises with a lurch of nausea that Thenardier has spilled his seed inside him. In that moment, all thoughts of atonement, of retribution, of forgiveness disappear; they are replaced by a constant stream of _no no no no!_ He doesn't want it, he doesn't want any of it, he wants to take it back, he wants to undo it; he wants to dismiss Thenardier from his wedding without a second thought, he wants to let the man starve in the streets, he wants to tear up the letter that first mentioned the name to him. Neither father nor friend can stop this; to hell with debt, he just wants to escape.

Thenardier removes himself and reality crashes upon Marius like a ton of bricks. Of course he is desperate to escape it; if it was in any way tolerable then it would be pointless. He has no choice; he must make himself depraved and degraded, as repulsive as the most vile gutter rat in the Parisian sewers. Stained by so much death, what else can he be?

It surprises him just how quick Thenardier is to pull himself out of bed. "Well, that was interesting," he says. "Hey, you mind if I help myself to a couple of hundred more francs? Since you're already in such a generous mood."

Marius rolls on his side, facing away, cradling his head in his hands as if he can somehow hide his shame. "Do what you will."

"Right." There is an uncomfortable pause, and Marius hopes the man will leave him soon. "You know, I could have just asked that of your Dad. Way he looked at me when we met, think he would have gone along with it. Would have saved you a lot of trouble."

Marius cringes. He wants to vomit again to think of Thenardier touching his father like this. He has earned his suffering; to try and foist it upon someone else, even in a brief vision, seems like one more unforgiveable sin.

(And yet Marius can't stop himself, can't help but wonder, if he is enduring things he need not: taking on the burden for things he cannot possibly be held responsible for.)

"But you know what, I'm glad it turned out this way. I reckon you're cuter."

Thenardier lets himself out and Marius wraps his arms around himself like a small child. He doesn't feel cute. He feels filthy and broken and corrupt and–

–miserable.


End file.
